Fic because I'm bored at work.
Sep. 10th, 2008 03:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cygna_himeSet in a universe I'm calling the Soulbond 'verse, because it's a result of me wanting to play with a soulbond that isn't perfect and magical and a source of true love and no problems ever. Which means I soulbonded Zexion and Demyx, because they have absolutely nothing in common and will develop a whole assortment of issues, including not wanting to spend the rest of their lives with someone they've never even met before.
I already have a prologue to this, but it's not vitally important. Demyx = nobility, Zexion = magical student & ward of the King.
"This is quite a surprise," said Lady Nocturne, straightening her son's collar for the eighteenth time. "We had scarcely been expecting a bond match. A pleasant surprise, of course."
She was lying. No one of their class wanted a bond match, not when it conflicted with potential political alliance. The Nocturnes were not King Ansem's dearest friends by a long distance; not enemies, of course, but not in agreement on many matters. This match would only confuse the situation.
Demyx tugged on his collar. The stiff lace itched, and he felt silly, getting dressed up in the finest clothes to sit and have tea with one person. It made sense for his parents to be formal, since they would be meeting with the King at the same time, but Demyx would just be sharing a meal with...the person he was going to spend the rest of his life with.
It was about what he'd expected, really, from arranging a match for him, but he hadn't been expecting to have one arranged so soon. He'd thought of some one of his friends, whose parents were his parents' friends, and then they'd spend this time doing the things they usually did, or else someone he'd never met, and then he'd have to decide if he could bear living with them. In this case, though, there was nothing to decide. Something inside him, whatever made bond matches, had decided the second he'd seen the young man with blue-grey hair. So what was the point of meeting like this, as though it were an ordinary matchmaking? He couldn't say no.
Not that he wanted to. Bond matches were perfect, were the best possible match in the world. He would be bound to love this person, or it wouldn't be a bond match.
His mother straightened his collar again. "Demyx! Keep your hands still. Now, the King will have taught his ward to expect a certain standard of behavior from people of our class. Mind that you do not behave otherwise."
"Yes, Mama."
"Proper posture, proper diction, and absolutely no singing. This is a serious meeting."
"Yes, Mama." Demyx ignored her as much as possible. She wouldn't be there, after all, so it wasn't as though she would know.
He might not be able to sing where she could hear, but he hummed under his breath as they went down the central stairs to meet the King and his ward, Demyx's match.
I already have a prologue to this, but it's not vitally important. Demyx = nobility, Zexion = magical student & ward of the King.
"This is quite a surprise," said Lady Nocturne, straightening her son's collar for the eighteenth time. "We had scarcely been expecting a bond match. A pleasant surprise, of course."
She was lying. No one of their class wanted a bond match, not when it conflicted with potential political alliance. The Nocturnes were not King Ansem's dearest friends by a long distance; not enemies, of course, but not in agreement on many matters. This match would only confuse the situation.
Demyx tugged on his collar. The stiff lace itched, and he felt silly, getting dressed up in the finest clothes to sit and have tea with one person. It made sense for his parents to be formal, since they would be meeting with the King at the same time, but Demyx would just be sharing a meal with...the person he was going to spend the rest of his life with.
It was about what he'd expected, really, from arranging a match for him, but he hadn't been expecting to have one arranged so soon. He'd thought of some one of his friends, whose parents were his parents' friends, and then they'd spend this time doing the things they usually did, or else someone he'd never met, and then he'd have to decide if he could bear living with them. In this case, though, there was nothing to decide. Something inside him, whatever made bond matches, had decided the second he'd seen the young man with blue-grey hair. So what was the point of meeting like this, as though it were an ordinary matchmaking? He couldn't say no.
Not that he wanted to. Bond matches were perfect, were the best possible match in the world. He would be bound to love this person, or it wouldn't be a bond match.
His mother straightened his collar again. "Demyx! Keep your hands still. Now, the King will have taught his ward to expect a certain standard of behavior from people of our class. Mind that you do not behave otherwise."
"Yes, Mama."
"Proper posture, proper diction, and absolutely no singing. This is a serious meeting."
"Yes, Mama." Demyx ignored her as much as possible. She wouldn't be there, after all, so it wasn't as though she would know.
He might not be able to sing where she could hear, but he hummed under his breath as they went down the central stairs to meet the King and his ward, Demyx's match.